


Windows on the World

by Morgana



Category: Supernatural RPF, Teen Wolf (TV) RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-30
Updated: 2015-05-30
Packaged: 2018-03-31 07:08:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3968993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morgana/pseuds/Morgana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Retiring from the FBI to go into private security was supposed to make Jensen's life easier. And it might've done just that, if he hadn't been hired to be security for one Dylan O'Brien. When Dylan decides to take an unscheduled trip to his boyfriend's family's hotel instead of going home for Christmas, Jensen has to go retrieve him. In the process, he discovers that there are some other things that he's been missing out on. Now he just has to figure out how to reconcile the life he always thought he wanted with the life that just might be waiting for him!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Windows on the World

**Author's Note:**

> Begin challenging your own assumptions. Your assumptions are your windows on the world. Scrub them off every once in while, or the light won't come in. - Alan Alda

Jensen didn’t really think he should be blamed for not realizing that Dylan was gone until almost 24 hours had gone by. He might be the kid’s bodyguard, but Dylan was a freshman at George Washington, and Jensen’s orders were to let him have as much of a normal college experience as he thought safely possible. And that meant allowing him to go to parties without doing more than a cursory sweep of the place, relying on a few prescheduled check-ins during the day instead of following him to every class, and even looking the other way when he spent the night at one of his friends’ apartments rather than insisting they go to Dylan’s secured dorm room where they were supposed to be. He might be a stupid, sentimental sucker, but he thought the poor kid deserved at least a little break after spending most of his formative years on the campaign trail being trotted out for one photo op after another.

But he was a stupid, sentimental sucker that was probably going to lose his job as soon as Dylan’s parents found out that their kid was missing. Jensen was reasonably certain that he hadn’t been kidnapped, especially since he hadn’t been returned within the first two hours. He couldn’t imagine any kidnapper worth their salt that wouldn’t get fed up with Dylan’s constantly running mouth within sixty minutes. And the timing was suspect, too - nobody would grab a college kid three days before finals, not when they could wait a week and get him at the start of Christmas break. Besides, Dylan just wasn’t really a viable kidnapping target, even if his father was the governor of Texas and the family had money - too loud, too old, too far away from home for anything like that to really have any impact.

In all honesty, Jensen was pretty sure he was just there for window dressing, although given Dylan’s sudden disappearance, he was starting to think he might’ve been hired to babysit as well. He really wished he’d known that when he took the job; he’d have asked for a lot more money. Somebody else would probably tell themselves that they wouldn’t have taken the job at all, but he knew better. He’d needed the money, and even more than that, he’d needed the job and the validation that came with it.

Validation that was going to go straight down the drain when the governor and his wife found out that their son had run off with one of his friends. A friend that Jensen was pretty sure they didn’t have a clue existed and probably wouldn’t approve of if they did. It wasn’t that.Dylan’s parents were snobs, but Tyler was older than Dylan, in the masters program, and from a decidedly working-class background, so they’d probably wonder what the hell the two boys had in common. And if he were honest, Jensen would have to say he didn’t have a clue. They spent most of their time together hanging out at Tyler’s apartment, playing Call of Duty and other video games, eating pizza and listening to music or watching baseball games, although Dylan hadn’t ever been interested in baseball until he met Tyler. But none of that mattered. The important thing was that Dylan had run off on Jensen’s watch, and if he had to drag the little jerk back by his fucking ears, then so be it. 

Of course, that was easier said than done. First he had to find the little fucker, and since he wasn’t an idiot, he’d turned off his goddamn phone and gotten Tyler to do the same. Jensen had tried first calling and then stalking over to West Hall to corner his most promising lead, but Posey was either sleep-deprived, had gotten his hands on the really good stuff, or was one hell of a good actor, because he’d proven to be particularly useless when it came to answering questions about where his best friend was. He wasn’t the brightest of bulbs on his best days, but today he’d been so dense that Jensen had been tempted to check for signs of a concussion. Eventually Jensen had growled a few threats to be passed along to Dylan if he checked in and gone back to Dylan’s dorm room to see if he could find anything there. He considered calling in an anonymous tip to Posey’s RA, then decided that if they couldn’t smell the weed that clung to him like a second skin, he wasn’t about to turn narc and tell them. Not yet, but he might be seriously tempted to rethink that if it turned out Posey had been covering for Dylan.

He’d already tossed the room several hours ago, when Dylan failed to check in after spending the night at his friend’s, but that had just been a cursory check for any glaring clues. A concentrated search took a little longer, and at the end of it, Jensen was no closer to getting his hands on Dylan than he had been all day. Which was probably good for Dylan, assuming he wanted to stay alive long enough to see next semester. It didn’t help Jensen much, especially with less than a week to go before he and Dylan were supposed to be on a plane heading back to Texas for Christmas. But apparently Dylan wasn’t planning to go home for Christmas.

Jensen spent three days going over first Dylan’s room, then Tyler’s apartment, but their trip was either meticulously well-planned or so spur of the moment that they hadn’t bothered to do more than grab a few changes of clothes. Knowing Dylan, he was tempted to guess the latter, but with Tyler involved as well, the evidence seemed to be piling up in favor of the former. Especially when both boys continued to ignore his texts and voicemails, all of which were getting increasingly creative as he went into detail about just how he was going to murder Dylan when he finally caught him. 

By the time they’d been gone five days, he was kind of surprised Dylan hadn’t called him to gloat at least a little over successfully slipping his leash, but then he had to know that the second he did that, Jensen would be on him like white on rice. There was no way around it. Jensen dug his phone out of his pocket, scrolled through the contacts, and selected the name he always detested calling. “Mrs O’Brien? It’s Jensen.”

“What’s he done now?” There was a wry amusement in her voice that reminded him that she knew her son better than anybody else - and that he’d leaned heavily on that knowledge for his first two weeks on the job, before Dylan decided that maybe he wasn’t The Enemy, after all.

Jensen told himself it was the wish not to to go back to that kind of hell instead of any kind of desire to actually cut Dylan a break that made him say, “Nothing, everything’s just fine.”

“Then why are you calling? Not that I’m not glad to hear from you, but you don’t usually call just to chat.”

“Well, Dylan’s done a lot of hard work this semester, and he wanted to take a few days off after his last final.” If you considered bolting off to wherever the hell he’d gone as taking a break. “I thought we could spend a little while playing tourist, you knew, see the Smithsonian and the Lincoln Memorial and everything.”

“The Smithsonian,” she repeated slowly, and Jensen cringed, sure he was about to get busted. “Jensen, tell me the truth.” He took a breath and prepared to confess when she said, “You’re the one who needs a break, aren’t you?”

That did it. He was never going to roll his eyes at his momma when she told him to go to church ever again. “Yes, ma’am,” he lied without hesitation. “But I’m not asking for time off. Just a little mini-vacation, maybe. I’ll still keep a close eye on him.”

She hummed, then agreed. “All right, just don’t stay too long. We want to see Dylan - and you, too.”

“I know.” And that was the kicker - he really did know that she meant every word of that. The O’Briens had welcomed him into their household like he was doing them a favor by looking after Dylan instead of it being the other way around. Jensen knew the governor was aware of what had happened, why he’d left the FBI and gone into private security, but he’d never let on by either word or deed, had instead trusted Jensen to look after and protect his only son, even from himself. And that meant a lot, especially for a traditional man like the governor.

Which meant there was only one thing to do - find Dylan, hopefully before he managed to break his parents’ hearts or get caught by some of those tabloid assholes that would jump at the chance to smear headlines about the very conservative, very Christian Texas governor’s son being on a runaway holiday trip with another guy. An older guy, too. Jensen winced, already imagining the headlines and insinuations that would be the farthest and most hurtful thing from the truth. He said his good-byes to Mrs O’Brien, promised to bring her some postcards, and stared down at his contacts list.

“I’m gonna find that little shit if it kills me,” he muttered, then made the first of what he had the feeling was going to be a very long list of calling in favors. Dylan was going to owe him something very, very big when he finally found him. Something like his first-born.

Actually, scratch that. Kids were usually scared of him. He’d settle for something even better, like that sweet Camaro Dylan’s parents had gotten him for a graduation present. Along with Dylan’s promise not to ever do this again, under threat of a home monitoring ankle bracelet. Then maybe they’d call it even.

Maybe. Or maybe Jensen should just say fuck it and slap the damn ankle monitor on Dylan the second he caught up with him.


End file.
